


Satisfied

by Redisaid



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Jaina as a mean suit, And the Horde are roughnecks, F/F, I mostly just want Sylvanas as a hot foreman, I think this qualifies as enemies to lovers too, New Year's Eve Prompt, Oil field workers cuz why not, Prompt Fic, Smut, The Alliance are accountants because they are just that boring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28462707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redisaid/pseuds/Redisaid
Summary: Site Foreman Sylvanas Windrunner is in for a surprise on New Year's Eve. It's not the suit who shows up to perform a surprise audit that morning at her oil field. It's not the two feet of snow that falls during said audit. It's the woman in the suit, who she's forced to wait out the storm with.---New Year's Prompt for me was: A and B are alone on NYE and meet by coincidence (can be one working or something)
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Comments: 35
Kudos: 279
Collections: Warcraft New Year's Prompts





	Satisfied

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the lack of writing lately. We'll get there eventually. Please accept this prompt I kinda forgot about.

“Well, this is the last place that I thought I’d be spending New Years Eve,” Jaina sputtered as they trudged up to the line of trailers that made up the small man camp on the site.

“Sorry we don’t have a fancy party for you with champagne and a soft cheese bar, boss,” Sylvanas answered to that, though Jaina wasn’t her boss in any capacity. She knew the word would get a scowl from her, though. 

No, Jaina Proudmoore was a name she’d only known from curt emails until that morning. Until that very same Jaina Proudmoore had shown up in a fancy rental car, fresh from the airport, and sat in the office trailer demanding to conduct a site financial audit with Sylvanas right there and then. Jaina Proudmoore was a corporate suit in a skirt suit, with a silky looking overcoat she’d kept draped from her shoulders, as if the chill of the oil field in winter didn’t seem to suit her, even indoors.

But then again, the way she’d sneered as Sylvanas in her grime-stained coveralls made it seem like that wasn’t the only thing she resented about being out here.

Alas, for her at least, that nice rental of hers was now buried under two feet of snow that had fallen in the hours that Jaina had kept them captive in the office, bent over reports instead of looking at what was happening outside.

And no one was going to be making it to the airport in time to catch a flight back to the city for any fancy parties, and certainly not one Jaina Proudmoore.

“At least that wasn’t in the camp budget this year,” Sylvanas quipped as she shoved the snow on the steps leading up to the trailer aside.

“Very funny,” Jaina spat behind her, shivering in the freak blizzard that still whipped around them, which was showing no signs of stopping any time soon. Her fashionable coat obviously doing little to shield her from the raging wind of the northern plains. It was about as practical as the three inch heels she had insisted on trudging through the snow with.

“I’m hilarious when I’m not arguing to keep my crew housed and happy, I assure you,” Sylvanas told her. She went to unlock the door to the trailer, fumbling a bit with her keys through heavy gloves.

“I suppose I’m getting my just desserts then, riding this out in a bunk at a man camp. On New Year’s fucking Eve of all days,” Jaina groaned. “You must be thrilled.”

“Well, I would be, if I had a spare bunk to put you in,” Sylvanas noted. As she tugged the door open, like some sort of sign from some sort of god, the snow that was covering the letters painted onto it fell away, revealing the bold, black, “FOREMAN” written above the handle.

Jaina had no retort to that as Sylvanas held the door open for her. To her own trailer. To the one and only single occupant residence the company allowed on site. To one that Jaina had argued in several corporate budget meetings was entirely unnecessary. 

How unnecessary did it seem now, Sylvanas wondered?

Jaina stepped into the trailer. Truth be told, it wasn’t much. A living area, a dinette, a little kitchen, a tiny office to the right, a bedroom and an infinitely too small bathroom to the left. But Sylvanas usually didn’t have to share it with anyone, and that was heaven in and of itself out on the oil field.

Well, not tonight. Tonight, she’d have to entertain this insufferable suit. Maybe even tomorrow, if the plows were slow. 

“You can have the bed,” Sylvanas said, immediately covering that base as she shut the door behind them and stomped the snow off her boots. 

“You’re too kind,” Jaina answered, standing stock still in the middle of the living room, dripping onto the carpet and shivering.

“I’ll take the couch,” Sylvanas said, nodding to the ugly brown couch behind her. Ugly as sin, yes, but comfortable. She’d slept on worse. “And you can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. I don’t think I have champagne. But there’s definitely beer.”

“You make it seem like you’re going somewhere in all of this,” Jaina said, finally turning to look out one of the windows and into the sea of white beyond.

“I’d go back to helping with the busted pipeline like I was when you showed up this morning, but supposedly they have it under control. No. I’m going to shower, in my own home, which I am graciously letting you stay in. Unless you’d like to double up with someone in one of the bunks?”

That came out a little too harsh, but after all the bullshit they’d traded that day, Sylvanas was done. The last thing she wanted was to extend this rude number-cruncher in hospitality, but she wasn’t that cruel. Nor did she want to piss off her crew by sticking this horrible woman with them. No, it was for the best.

“Right,” Jaina replied, finally whipping the uselessly soaked coat off of herself and throwing it over the dinette. “And um, thank you for that, I guess. I’ll make myself at home.”

“There’s clean sweats in my dresser, if you want something dry,” Sylvanas noted with one last look at her before heading to said dresser and pulling some out of herself. 

As she crossed Jaina’s path to get to the bedroom end of the trailer, she could see the full transformation that had occurred. Gone was the cocky and confident middle manager type, in her pressed suit and pencil skirt. Now she was out of her element, exhausted from wading through the snow and overwhelmed by the prospect of having her holiday weekend utterly ruined by this storm.

But then again, she had been the one to show up on New Year’s Eve when it was supposed to snow. But it had only been a few inches on the forecast. So much for that.

So much for all of this.

Jaina made no move to collect said dry clothes. Sylvanas wouldn’t be surprised if she insisted on suffering through sleeping in that soaked suit of hers. But that was hardly her problem. She had offered. She couldn’t make anyone take the offer.

With a shrug mostly to herself, she headed for the shower, shutting the door behind herself before stripping off her dirty coveralls, leaving them in a pile to deal with later. Later, when this woman was out of her life again and back to just being a name behind some vaguely nasty emails.

Sylvanas had to admit that she maybe took her time in that shower. Or at least, as much as her limited water supply and the trailer’s ability to heat it properly would allow. To be fair, the grime from the day’s work was often hard to get out of her hair. Today, it had even left oily black stripes down her face, trailing beneath her eyes like petroleum tear streaks. Those had been a bitch to scrub off, so the time taken was justified. Mostly.

Besides that, she had a feeling the only peace she would get tonight would be the minute or two she spent just standing beneath the hot water. Hot water she was sure was drowning out mumbled curses in the next room over as the reality of Jaina’s predicament was likely setting in.

She dried off, put on her sweats, and wandered out of the bathroom to find a Jaina Proudmoore that was about fifty percent what she expected. That fifty percent was the fact that she was still in her suit, dripping all over the vinyl of the dinette booth, with her once neat braid disheveled and popping out in pieces as it dried again.

The other bit that she didn’t expect was the bottle of whiskey that stuffy Ms. Proudmoore had helped herself to, and the old coffee mug with a cartoon cat on it that she was drinking it from.

“You said make yourself at home,” Jaina noted, not looking up from the staring contest she was having with the kitchen. 

“I did,” Sylvanas said. “Just seems...off-brand for you.”

“You don’t say?” Jaina replied with another sip out of the mug, cringing as she did.

It was only then when she turned to face Sylvanas, and her face completely changed. Beneath the messy strands of silver and gold hair that covered half of it, the rest that Sylvanas could see fell in shock. At what? Something behind her.

No. At her. Right. She was clean, and wearing something that fit her better than coveralls. 

“Surprised that my skin isn’t permanently grey with filth?” Sylvanas had to ask.

Jaina coughed once through the whiskey. “You clean up nice,” she offered instead.

Sylvanas fought the urge to laugh. Even to roll her eyes. That was the kindest thing this woman had ever said to her, as shallow and stupid as it was. Of course she cleaned up nice. She worked a hard, physical job, and her body showed it. It was rare these days that she could take the time to even have it ready to show off, but such was life out in the oil fields. Sylvanas had told herself she’d only do this for a few months. But it was going on several years now. Years that counted their way along defined abs and toned arms. 

So yeah, she did clean up nice, thank you.

Sylvanas settled for just a smirk at that statement instead, and went to retrieve an equally ridiculous mug from the cupboard. This one said “World’s Worst Boss”, which Anya had gotten for her after that one incident with the drill.

Without asking or any further ceremony, she sat across from Jaina and poured herself some of the whiskey.

“I thought company policy was no hard liquor on site,” Jaina noted as she snatched the bottle back and poured herself another shot.

Sylvanas raised her glass, “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

Jaina did as well, “Cheers to that, then.”

They drank their shots down. This wasn’t particularly good whiskey, but it was serviceable. Cheap bourbon was easy enough to find at the country liquor stores, even if the nearest one to here was still nearly an hour’s drive. And despite the company rule, Sylvanas was pretty sure hers wasn’t the only bottle on the property. She didn’t care. She knew her crew. They wouldn’t do something stupid because of a little alcohol. No, that came to them naturally enough even when sober.

And so what? Let them have their fun. This was a shitty, hard life, that burned through good people as fast as if they were the oil they helped suck out of the ground. She let them have their booze. She made sure they had good coffee in the breakroom, good food for dinner. She kept their trailers maintained and made sure they were clean. She took care of them, drill incidents aside. She always had.

That was the thing that suits like Jaina didn’t understand. People were everything. Numbers only told so much of the story. Jaina didn’t know that Nathanos had come up from an old mining town, leaving his beloved dogs behind to try to make a decent living. She didn’t know that Clea had taken to roughnecking to pay for her daughter to go to a good school back home. Jaina didn’t know what it was like to talk to these people day in and day out, laughing and crying together with them all the while as they worked on machines that could easily kill any of them with the simplest mistake. 

Perhaps, her time trapped in the snow might give her an ounce of sympathy for them, or at least for the conditions they resided in.

“So this was how you were planning to spend the New Year?” Jaina asked through the burn of the liquor.

“Mmm, if it were entirely up to me, I’d be asleep well before the countdown started. I’ve been up since four,” Sylvanas told her.

“Fuck that,” Jaina noted. 

“You have a mouth on you, don’t you? Who would know, from all those carefully-worded emails?” Sylvanas said as she gestured for the bottle again.

“Are you that surprised?” Jaina offered as she slid the bottle over. “You must think I’m some fiery bitch straight out hell. It’s fine, really. I’ve been playing the bad guy well before I started working for this company. I’ll do it again after. No one likes the girl who gets brought in to slash your budget.”

“You’re just doing your job,” Sylvanas said with a shrug as she poured another shot. 

“And I’m sure you think that’s what I chant to myself to get to sleep at night,” Jaina spat.

“If that’s what gets the job done,” Sylvanas replied, sipping at this one instead of chugging it back.

“And now all the sudden you’re cool as a cucumber now that I’m shivering in your trailer and not trying to take away your damn coffee service,” Jaina observed.

“I offered you dry clothes,” Sylvanas told her. “And my guys like their coffee. And it’s pointless to start picking fights with you when you’re stuck here with me until the plows come. So relax. Drink however much of my stash you need to. I’ll find us some food you can complain about. You can put the ball drop on my shitty little TV and be sad about it. Then in the morning, you can leave and pretend all this never happened. Or complain about it for sympathy from your fellow suits.”

The last bit of spitfire that seemed to be powering Jaina through this sputtered out then, leaving her leaning over the mug of whiskey like it was mana from heaven, and she a starving woman. 

“I just don’t want to be here right now,” Jaina admitted. 

“Most people don’t really want to be here. They just want a good, honest job that pays good money,” Sylvanas told her.

“And here I thought you were telling me to shut up and stop talking shop,” Jaina groaned into the mug as she drained it again.

“We can be done now,” Sylvanas said. 

She left most of her second shot in the mug as she stood up and stepped over to the kitchen again, peering into the fridge to see what it might hold in the way of food for two.

“You said you had dry clothes I could use?” Jaina asked, finally.

“In the dresser. Help yourself.”

“What about a towel?”

For her hair, probably. That too was still dripping. “Under the sink in the bathroom. They’re clean. You can take a shower if you want. The water is probably hot again.”

“Thank you.”

About twenty odd minutes later on in her life, Sylvanas would find that the urge to say, “You clean up nice too,” was strong, too strong to ignore. Because somehow, Jaina looked better in her clothes and smelling like her shampoo. She probably didn’t know how good she looked in that cheap hoodie and flannel pajama pants, but maybe that was for the best.

That, or Sylvanas had maybe spent too damn long on the oil fields.

“Thank you. This wasn’t exactly the look I had planned for tonight, but it’ll work,” Jaina retorted, seemingly back to not skipping a beat. 

Perhaps it was the whiskey, or the fact that she wasn’t shivering anymore. 

“You’re not like, a vegan or anything, right?” Sylvanas asked.

It was only then that Jaina seemed to take notice of the food on the dinette table. Leftover mac and cheese--Nathanos’ famous recipe. Slices of ham from the buffet they’d had all day in the breakroom at Christmas--so everyone could get something to eat, despite what shift they were working. The vegetable was even decidedly vegan unfriendly--Anya’s candied carrots, which had been cooked in honey and butter.

“No,” Jaina answered slowly, puzzled.

“Good. I wasn’t about to go back out there to get you a veggie burger,” Sylvanas sighed, then gestured to the food. “Anyway, help yourself. Christmas leftovers.”

“You’re feeding me, clothing me, and offering me shelter,” Jaina noted as she approached the spread. “I’m never going to live this down, aren’t I?” 

“What?” was all Sylvanas could ask to that.

“Any time I ask for something at your site after this, you’re just going to remind me that you could have left me out in the cold,” Jaina said, but found a spoon and a paper plate that were on offer and scooped a heap of Nathanos’ mac and cheese onto it regardless.

“But I wouldn’t have,” Sylvanas told her.

“Would you?”

No. She would never. Sylvanas took care of people. Once they were her people, her responsibility, she took care of them. She always had.

But to Jaina Proudmoore, she was probably also just another name behind another rude email. A foreman that insisted on keeping things as they were at her site--stubborn and unmoving. Stubborn for reasons Jaina didn’t know and couldn’t understand. Unmoving for reasons Sylvanas herself wasn’t quite sure of.

From the look that was sent her way by bright blue eyes, now free of their ruined mascara, wide and unnerved, Sylvanas could see that maybe, just maybe, the suit behind them was starting to understand that she’d made a mistake.

“Sorry,” came shortly thereafter. “No. You wouldn’t have.”

“And I’m not gonna hold it over you,” Sylvanas told her. “Your day’s been shit enough, I’m sure.”

Jaina sighed at that, sitting down on the other side of the dinette with her pile of mac and cheese. “I’d say that I’d drink to that, but you put the whiskey away.”

Sylvanas stood, padding over to the fridge again before retrieving a bottle within it. “Because I found wine. Not sure if it’s any good, but that’s as close to champagne as I’ve got.”

She held it up for inspection. Some sort of chardonnay. She wasn’t sure where it came from. Probably left behind by one of the girls during a poker night or something.

“That’s close enough for me,” Jaina replied. 

It turned out that, several glasses of wine later, they had more in common than their love of Nathanos’ famous mac and cheese--which they finished off handily. They both didn’t really like their jobs, but the money was good and they didn’t know what else to do. Jaina had a team of accountants working under her that seemed just as stupid and loveable as Sylvanas’ crew. She didn’t, you know, live with them 24/7 in a man camp out on the howling plains, but she had a bond with them all the same that Sylvanas could admire. She even went so far as to fondly call a young junior accountant her nephew, of all things. 

There were other things too, that came out as the bottle reached its end.

“So, do you have anyone to go back to on your off weeks?” Jaina asked.

“Nah. And I rarely take those weeks,” Sylvanas replied, poking at a piece of ham she was far too full for, but still debating on whether or not she’d eat it.

“No boyfriend or husband? Really? You’re gorgeous.”

The words came out before Sylvanas even had a second thought about this maybe not being the best of situations to share them in, “Ew no. My last real girlfriend and I ended it long before I went into the oil industry.”

It was only when the delayed, “Oh,” that came in response to that--popped out into the steadily warming air of the trailer--that Sylvanas realized that perhaps she was still too sober for this conversation.

Jaina drained her glass (or well, the same cartoon cat coffee mug that had been acting as a wine glass) before continuing that thought, “That’s, uh, a long time to be single. You’ve been on this site for years...”

“What about you?” Sylvanas asked, desperate for a change of subject away from her abysmal love life, but grateful for the gayness of it not seeming to rankle her guest too much. “Anyone you should be kissing at midnight?”

“That ship has long since sailed,” Jaina replied with a wave of her now empty mug, as if it were floating away on an imaginary ocean. “My last ex wanted to be my therapist more than he wanted to be my boyfriend.”

“Gross.”

“Tell me about it. But no, if anything, I’d be kissing whatever friend I could drag along with me, and then the rims of several more glasses of champagne. Or if I’m especially stupid, someone who I would wake up next to the next morning and have regrets about,” Jaind told her.

“That’s life, isn’t it?” Sylvanas offered.

“I guess it has to be,” Jaina answered with a shrug.

“That deserves another drink,” Sylvanas said as she rose yet again to find some more booze. 

Jaina, in turn was silent as she rummaged through the fridge, and then dug deep back into a cabinet to reveal yet another bottle. This time, decent vodka.

Sylvanas walked over and set it on the table, only for Jaina to lay a hand on hers before it could fully slip off the bottle.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Jaina said. Her hand was warm and soft.

Sylvanas made no move to shake it off. “What would you do then, if it didn’t have to be like that?”

“Live close to the beach with someone who didn’t try to psychoanalyze me--some place warm too,” Jaina told her. “What about you?”

“Buy a cabin in the woods. Some place where I could come back from a long hike and find it decorated with something new--a wreath or a painting or something--and the pretty girl who made it for me waiting in bed,” Sylvanas admitted freely.

That had always been the dream, really. Start over. Get a lot of money. Enough to truly get away from it all this time. Then find said pretty girl somewhere along the way.

Sylvanas had plenty of money in her bank account now. Enough to buy two cabins, probably. But instead of a pretty girl, she just had about two dozen roughnecks she would kill and die for.

“That sounds pretty good too, honestly,” Jaina told her, squeezing that hand with her soft one. “You wanna tell me more about it in bed?”

“You’re drunk,” Sylvanas warned.

“Foreman Windrunner, it’s gonna take a lot more than a few shots of whiskey and some chardonnay to accomplish that. Trust me. I’m still sober enough to think I won’t regret waking up next to you more than I regret coming out here at all, which at this point is only slightly,” Jaina assured her with another squeeze of that hand.

“Even without the soft cheese bar?” Sylvanas queried as she flipped Jaina’s hand over by her wrist, running a thumb over the softness of it as she tried to decide whether or not she’d regret the morning after herself.

It had been a very long time, after all. A very, very long time.

“Really, now that I’m not freezing and as annoyed about missing my flight anymore, this has been a surprisingly pleasant evening. Better than being disappointed at some sprawling party full of fake people I barely know,” Jaina said. Her eyes followed the thumb that traced gently over the lines in her palm.

Sylvanas said nothing else as she tightened her grip and helped pull Jaina up out of her seat. She was afraid, mostly, of talking herself out of it with her own dumb jokes. There was a pretty woman, right here. It wasn’t a cabin in the woods, but the trailer would do for now. 

For now.

Because Jaina was an insufferable suit that was always trying to take away her coffee budget, but her lips were as soft as her hands and just as warm. She smelled like Sylvanas’ shampoo and wine and bad decisions. But as those lips parted for her, Sylvanas thought she could do with a little regret. Just a little.

“I’m not fake,” Sylvanas breathed against them.

“I know. You’re very real,” Jaina replied as she dipped lower to kiss along Sylvanas’ jawline. “Very real and way too hot to be single.”

“When I’m clean,” Sylvanas teased, trying her best not to squirm as the hot breath against her neck caused a shiver to run through her.

“Yes, when you’re clean,” Jaina whispered with a huff of laughter against her neck before continuing her advance. An advance which included a hand that stroked just north of the hemline of Sylvanas’ sweatshirt. “Fuck. You have abs.”

Yes. Yes she did. Abs and no one to appreciate them. She’d made it a rule, mostly for herself, not to sleep with any of the other roughnecks, though there would be plenty that would be interested, if she decided to break it. But Jaina was not a roughneck. Jaina would be gone in the morning when the plows came. And Jaina was very much trying to get her shirt off in the middle of her kitchen right now.

So she breathed out a, “Yeah,” to that before words became any harder than they needed to be, and guided Jaina toward the little hall to the bedroom with a firm grip on her hips.

They made it to the bed. Sylvanas’ shirt did not. She cut the lights to the room quick enough so that Jaina couldn’t see the map of scars she’d revealed on her chest and abdomen. Stories each of machine parts and bar fights and accidents. The signs of a hard life she couldn’t seem to get away from.

And when she slipped her own hoodie off of Jaina, she found her just as soft there too. And warm. No bumps and bruises. No ropey slashes from snapped cables or puckered indents from some racist asshole’s knife. 

And honestly, the best thing about all of this was that Jaina didn’t comment about their differences. She was too busy making appreciative sounds against Sylvanas’ ear already, even as her hands ran over those scars. 

“Tell me if I should stop,” Sylvanas regained enough sense to say as her own hands came to rest just under Jaina’s breasts. Obviously, her bra had been left behind wherever the suit was, probably dripping the shower still.

“Please don’t,” Jaina sighed, twisting to push herself up beneath that hand. 

So she didn’t. Not when she graced the smooth curve of her breast with the pad of her thumb. Not when she tested along Jaina’s neck. Not even when she found that her panties were also absent, and the pajama pants that had pooled their way around her knees were the only thing between them. 

Not until she’d had the woman who had been her mortal enemy that morning, when she showed up at the office, gasping out a shuddering “Please,” as she found out just how wet she’d made her.

Funny what a little kindness in a snowstorm could change.

So Sylvanas continued not to stop, but she did take her time teasing along. She might have slowed down a bit to savor the silky feel of the woman in her bed. Because it had been a long, long time since she’d had a woman in her bed. Because this wasn’t exactly how she’d expected to ring in the new year, but it certainly wasn’t a bad way to do so. Because it had been a long time for either of them, and even if she was still just teasing, still just lightly circling her clit with two fingers that were just starting to remember how to do this, Jaina was definitely about to come.

“Fuck,” she sputtered as her body writhed beneath Sylvanas’ attentions. “Harder. Just a little harder.”

She was soft even as she came, her body tightening like a spring at first, but then becoming warm and loose. There was just enough light from the camp, bounding through the window and off the piling snow, for Sylvanas to see the satisfied smile that covered Jaina’s face when she sat up a little, pulling away from her to let her breathe.

“I would never have been such a bitch to you if I knew you could do that,” Jaina said after she caught her breath.

“Why do I have a feeling you’ll be back for another audit?” Sylvanas asked, maybe a little too smug. Maybe a little too satisfied herself, though she could already feel the slickness forming between her own thighs.

“I have to be sure that this site is satisfactory,” Jaina said with a deep, throaty laugh before rolling herself on top of Sylvanas.

“Oh? Only satisfactory?” Sylvanas wondered as she helped Jaina roll the pants off of her legs completely, then settled her on top of herself.

The warmth and the weight of her felt good. Really good. 

“We’ll have to see if you can do better than that,” Jaina said as she moved to make further assessments of her own.

In the end, the plows wouldn’t come until the evening on New Year's Day. Jaina wouldn’t fly out until the next morning. She left Sylvanas with not a drop of booze in her trailer, save a few cans of terrible light beer she refused to drink, several hickeys she had to hide beneath her coveralls, a bite mark on her left thigh, a demand from Nathanos’ recipe, her personal cell number, and a desire Sylvanas had forgotten she had. A desire that didn’t leave when Jaina did, but could be content to dwell on the memories of the two days she’d hardly left her trailer. 

The racey texts that Jaina had started to send didn’t help either. Worse, still, were the kind and inquisitive ones. The good mornings and where are you froms.

Oh, right. And the email Sylvanas received the week after. The site audit that came back with no comments, and a grade of “Exceeds Expectations”.


End file.
